The moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on: nor all your piety nor wit shall — Edward FitzGerald
Think then you are today what yesterday you were – tomorrow you shall not be less. — Edward FitzGerald
There was the door to which I found no key; there was the veil through which I might see. — Edward FitzGerald
The wine of life keeps oozing drop by drop, the leaves of life keep falling one by one. — Edward FitzGerald
The ball no question makes of ayes and noes, but here or there as strikes the player goes. — Edward FitzGerald
Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who before us pass’d the door of darkness through — Edward FitzGerald
If you can prove to me that one miracle took place, I will believe he is a just God who — Edward FitzGerald
I sometimes think that never blows so red the rose as where some buried caesar bled — Edward FitzGerald
